Rhyme or Reason Read online

“That’s what I’m hoping for and what I’m afraid of all at the same time,” Louisa confessed. “Fame is good, and yet . . . you have to be famous to get it.”

  Toria laughed. “Yes, that is quite the conundrum, and I can’t see any way around it.”

  Louisa settled back with her tea and listened to the conversations flowing around her. Half the women were discussing ways to investigate the counterfeiting, a few others had taken Ariadne aside and were discussing childbirth, and others were begging Regina for her cake recipe, which she refused to give because it was Ariadne’s. There was a feeling of real sisterhood in the air, and Louisa realized that was something she had missed in her life—sisters or friends she could share things with. She’d had friends at school, but they hadn’t kept in touch.

  “You look a little far away,” Mariah said. “Are you all right?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m all right. I was just thinking about you—all of you. How connected you seem.”

  “Things in Creede haven’t always been easy,” Toria said. “We’ve had kidnappings and we’ve had cattle theft, and I’m sure you’ve heard about the fires. Some of the men are pretty rough, and some of the women, too. But you won’t find people who care more about each other when it comes right down to it. I think that’s why the town has survived to keep growing—we believe in each other.”

  Louisa was surprised at how emotional that made her feel. She’d never lived in a place that stirred such devotion inside her. Instead, she’d spent her life wanting to get out of whatever place she was in. What would it be like to live in a town you loved so much, you’d sacrifice and sweat to keep it alive? Could Creede become that way for her, too?

  As the tea party broke up, the women came around again and said goodbye to Louisa, inviting her to their homes for dinner or over to their places of business. She smiled and thanked them all, wishing she was taking notes.

  “I know it’s all a blur, but I want to make sure you accept my invitation.” A pretty woman with a long red braid took Louisa’s hand in her own. “My name is Millie McRae, and I’d like you to come over for dinner tonight. We’ll be eating at the Hearth and Home—my husband’s family owns it—and we’ll see you at six.”

  “I couldn’t impose,” Louisa began, but Millie shushed her.

  “You’re part of Creede now,” she said. “And that means you come to dinner.”

  She said the words jovially, but she had no idea just how seriously Louisa took them and held them close to her heart.

  Chapter Five

  Tobias stepped into the office of the Creede Candle and pulled the door closed behind him. Mark Carroll, the owner and editor, looked up from his desk.

  “Hello, Tobias. What can I do for you today?”

  Tobias approached the desk, pulling off his hat as he did so. “I’d like to place an advertisement, please.”

  Mark handed him a sheet of paper. “Here are our prices. As you can see, the bigger the ad, the more expensive—but also the more visible. What did you have in mind?”

  “I’m going to start up a poetry class at my bookstore.”

  “Oh? I’m sure the ladies will love that.”

  Tobias had expected that sort of response and wasn’t surprised by it. “Actually, it’s for the men.”

  “The men? Reading poetry? Do they have time for that? Most of the men here work nearly around the clock.”

  “Well, I hope they’ll find the time somehow. I think it would be good for their morale after working so much.” Tobias certainly wasn’t going to share that the idea came from an angel, or that he was hoping to see some weddings out of this. It sounded unusual enough as it was without layering all that on top of it.

  “I might be interested in stopping by myself. Let’s hear your plans.”

  Tobias explained the dates and times of the class, and Mark jotted down a few notes. After a moment, he slid the piece of paper he’d been using over to Tobias, who took it and nodded.

  “That sounds just about right. Thank you, Mark. How much will an ad like this cost?”

  Mark looked thoughtful. “You know what, I’m intrigued by this idea, and I’m curious to see how it will pan out. If you promise not to spread it around town that I’ve gone soft, I’ll run this first ad free.”

  “Are you sure? I know this is your livelihood.”

  Mark waved him off. “Like I said, I’m curious. This will go out in the next edition.”

  “Thanks, Mark. I appreciate it.” Tobias shook the man’s hand, then left the building. He was curious to see how this was going to pan out too. Chances were, not one man would show up, and how would he explain that to Miss Chapel?

  That is, if she ever showed up again. She hadn’t said if her visit was a one-time deal or if she’d be back on a regular basis. Either way, he didn’t want to disappoint her. Not when he knew how hard she’d worked on his behalf throughout his whole life.

  Instead of returning directly to the bookstore, Tobias decided to go for a walk. The fall air was crisp and filled with the scent of turning leaves. They crunched under his feet with every step, a sound he loved as it reminded him of childhood. He’d loved jumping in the leaves when he was a boy, and he was filled with an urge to do it again.

  “So, why don’t you?”

  He turned and saw Miss Chapel walking along beside him, kicking her feet extra high with each step to make the leaves swirl around before settling back down.

  “Why don’t I what?”

  “Jump in the leaves. There’s nothing stopping you. I’m not aware of any city ordinance against it.”

  He shook his head. “I’m far too old for that now. I have a business to run, responsibilities.”

  “What possible connection are you drawing between your business and the leaves? Do you think you’ll stop selling books if you take a moment to enjoy yourself?”

  Maybe he did think that on some level. “I have an image to maintain.”

  “And what sort of image might that be? Gracious, Tobias, I’m rather startled at you. I’m not sure you know who you really are. One moment, you’re laughing and joking with L—er, with your new lady friend, and the next moment, you’re as prim and proper as a schoolteacher. How confused you must be in your head.”

  “You know my lady friend? Who she is?”

  “Of course I know who she is. I have a great deal of knowledge concerning your life—I thought we established that already.”

  “So you know her name.” Tobias realized he was cheating at their game, but he couldn’t hold back the question.

  “Yes, I do, but I’m not telling you. I’ll just encourage you to enjoy your walk. And for pity’s sake, try to relax a bit, would you? You’re making me feel tense.”

  She disappeared, literally, and Tobias continued his walk. Interesting how she’d shown up just as he was thinking about her. Perhaps that was the key to calling her or summoning her—whatever it was called—when he wanted to talk to her again. He couldn’t picture her being the kind of person who came when she was called, though. He had a feeling she came and went precisely as she pleased.

  As he walked, he noticed two men hanging a new poster outside the Creede Theater, and as they smoothed it into place, he found himself astonished. His new lady friend’s face looked down on him from a great height, and she would apparently be performing beginning that Friday night.

  He never would have guessed that at all.

  ***

  Mr. Redfern’s bookstore was just as delightful as Louisa had hoped it would be. As she stepped inside, her fingers all but tingled to reach out and begin pulling books off the shelves to peruse them.

  “Welcome to my shop, Miss Brown.”

  She turned toward the front counter with a smile on her face. “So, you figured it out.”

  “I did. The giant poster outside the theater was a rather obvious clue.”

  She grimaced. “It is rather giant, and obvious. I didn’t want them to do it, but Mr. Westcott said it would be good advertising, and
he didn’t give me a great deal of choice in the matter. Do you think it’s awful and garish?”

  “It’s definitely large.” He smiled. “No, it’s not awful or garish. It’s typical of the theater—that red background is certainly eye-catching. I thought it was a rather nice rendition of you.”

  “Honestly? I think I look like I just ate something rotten.”

  “Not a bit.” He held out both hands. “Take a look around. Most of the books here are for sale, but I also have a shelf of books that I loan out on a week-by-week basis, which are free.”

  “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea. Every town should have a lending library.”

  “That’s exactly my thought.”

  Louisa wandered down each aisle, her gaze landing on a title here or a title there. If she had not decided to study music, she would have liked to become a librarian. Or a horticulturist. Or a great many other things—her interests were wide and varied, but music had always trumped the rest. And now, perhaps she might have the chance to work it into a real career, something that would give her an income as well as a purpose.

  Almost as if he was following the direction of her thoughts, Mr. Redfern asked, “How long have you been singing?”

  “My whole life, really. Oh, you mean singing, as in, a profession?” She paused by a display of travel journals. “I didn’t receive any training until I went to the ladies’ college, and from there, I hired a coach when I was able. Sadly, that wasn’t often. Being contacted by the Creede Theater was a miracle and a blessing, and I just hope I can meet their expectations.” A miracle brought about by a man she loathed—which reminded her that she hadn’t yet mailed her letter. She’d written it quickly enough, but now there remained the final step, which was actually sending it on its way.

  “I’ll be buying my ticket as soon as the ticket office is open,” Mr. Redfern said. “I want to sit on the front row and cheer you on.”

  “Oh, please don’t,” she replied, then realized how abruptly she’d spoken. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I have a fear of people I know sitting on the front row and cheering me on.”

  He chuckled. “Would you rather have people you don’t know sitting there and throwing things at you?”

  “Is there a third option?” She picked up a book and turned it over in her hands without really seeing it. “I want to perform—I want to share my love of music with everyone I know. At the same time, I don’t want them to know anything about it. It’s fear of failure, fear of disappointing them . . . and fear that I’ll never live down the things my aunt said to me.”

  Mr. Redfern leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “Just what did she say to you?”

  Louisa put the book back on the shelf and kept strolling, now coming closer to the front of the store. “She told me that my aspirations were ridiculous, that I wasn’t talented enough to succeed, and that no one would ever pay money to see a fat little girl croak like a frog.” She said the words dispassionately, but they still stung her right to the quick as she remembered her aunt saying them.

  Mr. Redfern didn’t reply, and she looked at him to see that his mouth had fallen open. “She said that? Those actual words?”

  “That was a direct quote, without embellishment or abridgement.”

  “What an odious woman.”

  She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t that, and she surprised herself by laughing. “You’re right. She was an odious woman. I don’t think she ever cared for a single person besides herself in her entire life, and it’s no wonder that she died alone and miserable.” She paused. “Oh, dear. I shouldn’t say things like that. We aren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead. But I’ve never understood why, now that I think about it.”

  “De mortuis nil nisi bonum. Of the dead, say nothing but good,” Mr. Redfern said. “According to some, it’s socially unacceptable. According to others, the dead can’t defend themselves, so it’s considered unfair. Personally, I think that if one has an odious aunt, one should feel free to say so. You certainly never got the chance while she was alive—if you don’t have the chance now that she’s dead, you’ll never get your say. And where’s the fairness in that?”

  Louisa smiled. “I like the way you think, Mr. Redfern. I also liked the way you jumped right to my defense without even pretending to be unbiased.”

  “Of course I’m biased. You’re standing in front of me, a perfectly lovely and composed young woman, and I can see with my own eyes that you’re nothing like what your aunt said.”

  He thought she was perfectly lovely? Oh, that was a nice thought. She’d tuck it away and keep it safe for a very long time. “Thank you. I’ve always believed she was wrong, even while she was saying it, but sometimes, those doubts become stifling. We wonder if we believe what we know we believe. It’s difficult when the negative voices are so overpowering.”

  “And now there’s a giant picture of you smiling down at the town of Creede from a lofty height. If that doesn’t convince her of your greatness, I don’t know what would.”

  Louisa put a hand on her hip. “You do think that poster is garish and awful. Why didn’t you just say so?”

  “It’s possibly one of the nicest theater posters I’ve seen. I’m just not used to seeing friends of mine up there, and it also doesn’t show the best side of you.”

  “Oh? What side is that?”

  “Your human side. Your wit and your charm. It shows your beauty, but not your soul.”

  “My goodness, Mr. Redfern. You’re certainly piling on the compliments today.” She was so flattered, she almost didn’t have words to respond. Thank goodness she could almost always rely on sarcasm to pull her out of an awkward situation.

  “I’m sorry if I’m laying them too thick. I just felt that you could use a little extra uplift today, and not one thing I’ve said is untrue.”

  She looked down at the floor and then back up. “I’m not used to being appreciated,” she finally said. “I thought I’d outgrown my need for it, but you’re right—I did need some extra uplift, and I thank you for giving it to me.”

  “You’re welcome.” The warmth in his eyes made her smile. He was such a kind man—she was drawn to the way he was so concerned about her welfare.

  “I wish I could stay longer, but I’m supposed to be going to rehearsal. I have just enough time to change. I’ll come back soon and look over your books to lend, all right? And once I’m paid, I’d like to buy a new novel. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

  “Absolutely. Good luck with rehearsal, Miss Brown. And I will be on the front row come Friday night, but I’ll be in disguise. It will be the best of both worlds—I’ll cheer you on, but you won’t know it’s me.”

  She laughed again. “All right. That sounds good.”

  Chapter Six

  There would be no more procrastinating. As soon as Louisa got back to her room, she was going to mail her letter and be done with it.

  She tossed her reticule on the bed and walked over to the desk. Strangely, the letter wasn’t where she left it.

  She riffled through the papers that still remained, and then she looked on the floor beneath the desk as well as behind it. Perhaps she’d slid it into the drawer and didn’t remember doing so—but the drawer was empty. Where on earth could it have gone?

  She stepped back from the desk and looked around. The flowers on her mantel had been changed out—Mrs. Handy must have come in while she was gone. Maybe she’d know where the letter had gone.

  Louisa went downstairs and found Mrs. Handy in the kitchen chopping up some vegetables. “Mrs. Handy, I had a letter sitting on my desk waiting to be mailed. Do you have any idea where it might be?”

  Mrs. Handy scooped up the carrots she’d chopped and plopped them into the kettle at her elbow. “Yes. I saw it sitting there when I came in, all nice and signed and everything, and you had the envelope right next to it, and I was heading out to mail a letter myself. I thought I could save you a trip.”

&nb
sp; Louisa frowned. “You mailed my letter for me?”

  “I did. And you don’t need to pay me any extra for it—running little errands like that is one of the ways I take care of my guests.”

  That was probably well-intentioned, but Louisa felt a flash of irritation. That errand should have been hers to run. All right, she’d been procrastinating, but still, it was hers to procrastinate.

  But then she focused on something Mrs. Handy had said. “The letter was signed?”

  The woman looked up in surprise. “Well, of course. Don’t you remember signing it?”

  Louisa remembered signing the letter she’d written in anger. In fact, she’d done so with a huge flourish, adding several extra curlicues for emphasis. The letter she meant to send hadn’t been signed yet because she’d been trying to decide if she wanted to add anything first.

  “And the other letter? Where did it go?”

  “I put it back in your stationery box for safe keeping.”

  Louisa gave a terse nod. She supposed she should be saying thank you, but she didn’t feel very thankful. This could be bad. Very bad.

  She trotted back up the stairs and grabbed her stationery box. Oh, bad didn’t even begin to cover how she felt. The correct letter was waiting for her in the box, while the one that rambled on and on, laced with poison and vitriol, was the one that had been mailed.

  She should have known. The minute she put pen to paper with no intention of mailing it, she should have known that somehow, there would be a mistake, and that letter would be sent. It was almost like asking for such a thing to happen.

  But what could she do now? The letter was on its way. She could run down and try to catch the mailbag as it was put on the train, but she didn’t know if it had already gone out, and she couldn’t very well paw through the whole thing to find her envelope. She would simply have to deal with the consequences.

  If there were any consequences … Mr. Yancy hadn’t cared much for her in the past. There was no reason to believe he’d start now. He’d likely throw the letter away and not even think about it again. He might not even open it. That would be a blessing—he might toss it away, deciding it wasn’t worth his time. Then she’d avoid the embarrassment altogether.